No Answer
by whump-and-angst
Summary: Sick of the weirdness, Melissa McCall is determined to get an answer from Scott. My answer to FashionDiva7's prompt/challenge. 10/2 - Complete!
1. Chapter 1

"Hello, Mrs. McCall. This is a courtesy call from Beacon Hills Pharmacy. We have three refills of your son's inhaler waiting to be picked up. Its been a few months and we wanted to make sure that he was taking the medication. If there's been a change in his treatment, please call us back and let us know so we can cancel the prescription. Thank you."

Melissa McCall replayed the message from her voicemail again. "Scott hasn't picked up his inhaler refills." She said it aloud, to no one. "Scott hasn't picked up his inhaler refills in three months." She said it again to herself, just be sure she got it and it didn't float to the back of her mind when Scott managed to avoid a concrete conversation with her. Again.

Melissa looked at the microwave clock. It was 7:52 pm. Lasagna and salad were waiting on the table. Scott should be home soon, with the milk he promised to pick up for dinner. Melissa had agreed to switch her shift with a co-worker and was able to work the 7 to 3 instead of her usual 7 to 7 overnight. It was a nice change of pace for once. She was looking forward to making dinner and eating with her son, a rare occasion lately. Her shifts at work were at odd hours for the past two years, ever since Scott started high school. Melissa had felt he was ok spending one or two nights a week on his own or at the Stilinskis. But with the beginning of his junior year, their paths seemed to cross even less. They were becoming more like roommates and less like mother and son lately. She needed to make sure that changed. Scott needed a mom now more than ever, if their conversation before the semi formal was any indication.

Melissa got up from her kitchen chair with a sudden impulse. Walking into the living room, she went to the bookcase and took out the photo album, its brown cover worn and old. She brought it back to the kitchen table and sat down again. She flipped through the pages, a small smile growing across her face as she relived small moments in their lives. First smile, first steps, first day of school, first ER visit, first sleepover, and soon, first lacrosse game, once she got the photos off her digital camera printed out. So many firsts in Scott's life were such great memories for her, especially after her husband left. Her ex was never in any of the photos. Melissa used to think it was such a shame that he always played photographer and never posed with Scott. Now, it was more of a blessing, not being reminded of him in their lives over and over again.

Still flipping through the pages, she watched Scott grow up all over again. She hadn't done this in awhile, it stirred up all those maternal feelings she usually tried to keep at bay since Scott protested how embarrassing it was. She internally 'awwwwwed' at her son in all his awkwardness, remembering how he would smile at her, like she was the only person in the world.

He really was a good son. 'Things could be a lot worse,' she reasoned, other than the recent bad grades and elusiveness. 'He's just growing up.'

Again, glancing up at the microwave, Melissa saw that it was almost 8:30. She made an annoyed sound and grabbed her cell, ready to call Scott when he burst through the front door.

"Hey Mom, sorry I'm late, I didn't finish until like half an hour ago but I still remembered to stop and get the milk," he said as he dropped his bag and shrugged off his coat. He came into the kitchen, holding the half gallon of milk triumphantly, smiling. Melissa internally started to 'awwwww'.

"Thank you. Dinner. Sit." Melissa pointed to the food and the table with a smile.

"You _made_lasagna? Like from scratch?" Scott said incredulously.

It had been awhile since Melissa had really cooked a homemade meal and she knew Scott adored the family lasagna recipe. A confident smile began to grow across her lips. "Well, I figured making a whole pan will give us plenty of leftovers for the rest of the week." Then looking at Scott's plate already overflowing with food, she continued sarcastically, "or maybe a day at the rate you're going. That's a lot of food. You sure you'll finish that?" Melissa asked, as they both sat down at the kitchen table.

Scott nodded, his mouth full. "Yup, I'm starving." Melissa made a mental note to check her grocery bills. Had they gone up recently?

"Did you make peanut butter cookies too?" Scott actually sniffed the air like she spent the entire afternoon in the kitchen.

"I bought some. They're put away in the pantry." She looked at Scott quizzically. "How did you know?"

"Oh, uh, no reason. Just a lucky guess," Scott replied, trying to shrug it off. He turned his focus back to his half empty plate.

"Geez, go easy on that, you'll get sick eating so fast." The rate Scott shoveled food into his mouth was beginning to put his father to shame. She laughed quietly, remembering.

Scott noticed. "What?" he asked indignantly

Melissa shook her head slightly. "Its nothing. Its just, I remember when it could turn into World War III trying to get you to finish half of what's on your plate and now I have to fight you to leave leftovers for lunch."

Scott smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, well, you didn't make me lasagna every night, maybe I would have."

They made up a few moments of small talk about their days, when Scott's phone made a noise. He checked it quickly and typed a response. He looked at his mother and abashedly said, "Sorry, its, uh, Stiles."

Melissa stared at his phone for a second. "Oh that reminds me," she started. She picked up her own cell phone, dialed her voicemail and placed the phone on speaker, laying it down between herself and Scott.

She watched his face as the message from the pharmacy played. Scott listened to the message, his eyes focusing on the phone as if it had suddenly become a deadly weapon.

"So, wanna tell me why you haven't gotten your inhalers for the past three months? And why the co pays are still coming out of my checking account?" She put her best Don't-Mess-With-Me-Mom look on and waited for a good answer.

She could tell Scott was trying to come up with something to explain it away, but he was taking too long so she knew it wouldn't be the truth. Melissa was getting fed up and the "awwwww" moment had long since disappeared.

"Mom, I -" he began and his phone beeped again. Immediately, he grabbed the phone to check the text that came in. As he began texting a response she reached over and took the phone out of her son's hands.

"Stiles can wait. We're talking about this. Now." She turned off the phone and placed it on the far side of the table. "Why aren't you using your inhalers? You know your asthma got worse after you got bronchitis freshman year. And then everytime you'd go to lacrosse practice? I think you used your inhaler more than your lacrosse stick on the field! Asthma doesn't go away overnight, Scott. I thought, maybe you had gotten better about using it and all that training you tried to do over the summer was paying off and helping you get a bit stronger, but I don't understand how you've been playing at the level you've been playing without your medicine. You're co-captain of the team for god's sake! How does that happen?" Melissa felt exasperated at the blank stare her son gave her. "Well?"

Scott was wrestling with something, inside his head. She could tell by the way his fists began to ball up and how he began to bite his lower lip, eyes shifting from side to side. She saw him take in a breath and then he spoke. "I guess, I just got better? I just...started not to need them? I forgot about the automatic refill they get." He looked at her, "I can pay you back for them."

Melissa was sure by look she was giving her son that he knew she wasn't buying it. He sighed. "Look, I don't know either, but I swear, I feel fine! I still keep an inhaler in my bag just in case. And I'm not on drugs, I promise! Just please don't worry about me?" He looked at her apologetically.

"I'm your mom. I'm supposed to worry about you. It's kinda my job," she gave him a wry smile. "I believe you, but I'm making you an appointment with Dr. Hax just to be on the safe side. Don't make that face at me, you're going. The last thing you need is to get a surprise asthma attack outta - " Melissa stopped. Outside, they both heard an animal howl.

Melissa furrowed her brows. "What's that?" She looked at Scott, who had froze, his face tense. 'That's odd,' she thought as she caught his expression. She got up from her chair and went to cross the room to the kitchen window. "I'm sure its just a coyote or something. Almost sounds like its right outside the door." She heard Scott get up behind her and place his dishes in the sink. She turned around in time to see him stalk out of the kitchen in silence. "Hey, we're not done here yet!" She went after her son, who was grabbing his discarded jacket and backpack from the floor. As she approached him, she reached out for his arm. "What's the matter? We didn't even have dessert yet."

Scott wouldn't look at her, couldn't look at her, it seemed. "Just...I'm gonna just go to bed, ok?"

"No! It's not ok. You were fine just a minute ago. Look at me," she pleaded. She brought her hand to his cheek and made him bring his head up to meet her eyes. "Please, you can tell me if something's bothering you." She wanted to make him understand that this was sincere and not just some sappy parent line from a bad TV show.

Again, they both heard the howl, more insistent than before. They both turned their heads to look at the closed front door, half expecting something to come right through any moment. She felt a tremor run through Scott and she looked back at him. She sucked in air, shock audible in her gasp. Scott jerked his head back to her, worried look on his face.

And bright, gold eyes. She saw Scott's eyes flash to an iridescent golden color as he looked to the front door.

"Scott what is wrong with your eyes?" she didn't mean to let the panic she felt show in her voice.

Scott squeezed his eyes shut. "Nothing! I'm just, just tired!" He tried to turn away towards the stairs but Melissa was having none of it. Not this time. She was too stubborn and well rested to let this go tonight.

She grabbed his arm as he went to take the first steps up the staircase. "Let me see your eyes! What's wrong with them? And Don't. Lie. To. Me." She spat out the last sentence as she reached out to get a closer look at his face.

Scott was sweating now. She could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He kept squeezing his eyes shut, looking anywhere but at her. He reached up to grab her hands on the sides of his face and pulled them away. "Mom! I just have to go to bed, OK?," he growled, teeth clenched. He ran up the stairs. She heard his door slam.

'Did he just growl at me?' Melissa thought. She continued up the stairs and found herself at Scott's door. She knocked.

There was no answer.

"Scott?" she called softly. "Can I please come in?"

Still no answer. She tried the doorknob. He had locked it.

Melissa got angry. Usually, she would give up by now; chalk the behavior up to boys being boys. Scott can't lock her out now, not like her ex husband did. She may have given up on him, but she can't allow herself to give up on Scott.

She walked briskly down the hall to the bathroom. In the drawer, she found a nail she kept there, to fiddle with some of the old locks in the house. Back at Scott's door, she inserted the nail into the hole in the middle of the doorknob until she heard a click.

"Scott?" she called again. "Scott, I'm coming in." She hesitated a small moment. She really didn't want to walk in on him doing...something she really didn't want to think about.

Still no answer. She opened the door. Scott wasn't there.

The desk lamp was on, but that was the only light in the room. His backpack was on the floor, tossed without care, books spilling out. The window was wide open, a breeze moving the old blue curtains.

"Why is the window open?" she exclaimed. "Does he even care how much my oil bills are gonna go up?" She marched over to the window, reaching up to slam the window shut. Until she noticed the marks on the sill.

Deep gouges decorated the wooden sill, made by something sharp, she guessed. She leaned closer and traced the marks with her finger tips. Some of the marks were older, but the deepest ones seemed to be most recent. How she knew, she wasn't sure. She looked out the window for any sign of her son, only to be met with a long empty driveway. Melissa could see the porch down below and saw her son's bike was still there.

She stood up. "Where would he go at 9:00 pm on a school night on foot?" she mused. She turned to leave the room, intent on finding out what was going on when she saw it. Near the door to his room, wedged between the wall and his computer desk was a white plastic dog bowl. She picked it up. Written in big block letters made of out Sharpie ink, was the name "Scott".

"What the hell?" She turned it over. Reading the bottom of the bowl, she found new resolve and stormed out of the bedroom and ran down the stairs. She grabbed her keys and cell phone and Scott's cell phone, which was still on the kitchen table.

'If Scott's not going to tell me what's going on, I'm going to someone who will. And I won't leave til I get an answer,' Melissa thought to herself. She left the house, slamming the front door.


	2. Chapter 2

Scott McCall was beyond angry. Derek called him out. Derek, his new alpha, wouldn't take 'No' for an answer for just one night. Derek's howl forced him to start shifting _in front of his mother! _Derek, in short, was an asshole.

Scott was running at top speed through the Beacon Hills Preserve, on all fours in his wolf form. He was headed towards the Hale Family property. He felt a lot faster and stronger tonight. He didn't know if it was because he was extremely pissed off at Derek or an after effect of having a new pack member added to the ranks earlier in the week, right before the full moon. Derek was busy planning for something, something that included a bigger pack, which now included Jackson Whittemore. Scott should have known Jackson would cave and Derek was going to use him to his own advantage. Scott, however, was a little more preoccupied with getting his life to resemble some type of normal, including but not limited to: pulling up his grades, figuring out what was wrong with Lydia Martin, and being a good boyfriend, the kind of boyfriend with no secrets anymore.

Scott supposed he could add being a better son to that list as well, especially after how dinner went tonight.

He began to slow down since he was approaching his destination. As he did, he rose up to running on two feet. The police had finally closed the site as a crime scene a few days ago, just in time for the three of them to spend the full moon chained up in the underground quarters. Well, Scott and Jackson had to be restrained - Derek had been just fine. As much as Scott did not want to spend any more time than he had to with Jackson, it was a better alternative than leaving that responsibility up to Stiles again. Scott cringed inwardly, remembering the crap Stiles had put up with from him.

He could now see the Hale house coming up ahead, looking eerily abandoned, but Scott knew better. Derek and Jackson were there, he could smell them all over the place. He slowed to a stop, hesitating to continue. Scott heard the growl but it was too late. From behind, a force catapulted him forward, towards the house. He tumbled in the air and landed on the ground trying to catch his breath. He watched as Jackson, in his new beta wolf form, strode towards him. Scott snarled in anger and tried to get up when Jackson's foot came down on his chest to hold him down.

"Hey McCall. Remember the view from down there? I don't think you see it often enough anymore," he sneered, showing fang. Scott was beginning to think Jackson enjoyed being a werewolf a little too much. That didn't mean he was actually good at it...yet. Within seconds, Scott saw his opening and brought both feet up to meet Jackson's crotch. With Jackson doubled over, Scott sprung up and grabbed Jackson by the back of the neck.

"Hey Jackson, let me know when your balls drop again," Scott drawled and he whipped him backwards into a tree. Scott had wanted to do that for awhile. He thought up the line weeks ago and couldn't wait for an excuse to use it! He watched as Jackson tried to stand up, glaring at Scott with his eyes flashing angrily at him. Scott had to laugh to himself; he felt strangely satisfied being able to inflict some kind of damage on his classmate without worrying about _really _hurting him. Instant werewolf healing abilities made for good emotional insurance on Scott's part. He felt a smile begin to grow across his face, watching Jackson ready himself for another attack on Scott. 'I think I might actually enjoy this,' he thought, all guilty feelings over the earlier incident at dinner receding. Scott felt himself crouch down and his claws dig into the earth, anticipating the fight.

Jackson launched himself again at Scott, aiming to take him by the shoulders and keeping him down. Scott parried the move, using Jackson's momentum to maneuver out from under him and gain the upper hand. Kneeling over his torso, Scott landed two quick punches to his face before Jackson flipped him over his head. Scott crawled a few feet away to stand up only to have his gut meet Jackson's fist. Again and again, Jackson landed punches on his torso. He heard his sweatshirt rip as Jackson's focus was lost and claws came into contact, narrowly missing Scott's skin. Scott locked his arms around Jackson's waist and used his own claws to try to shred Jackson's back through his shirt. A howl and the scent of blood filled his nostrils as he realized success. This knowledge spurred Scott on even more. In Jackson's moment of pain, Scott reached up to wrap a hand around his neck and surprised even himself as he lifted Jackson up and threw him to the front stairs of the house.

Jackson lay there snarling as Scott cautiously approached him. Jackson made one last effort to subdue Scott by grabbing his right hand and grasping the front of his hoodie, readying himself to land a blow somewhere, _anywhere_. In a move all too familiar to Scott, he again grabbed Jackson by the throat, lifted him up and slammed him back down on the steps. To finish, he leaned in close and snarled at Jackson, wanting to make sure he knew who was in charge.

It seemed to do the trick. Scott watched closely as Jackson reverted back to his human form, sweat rolling off his face as he tried to catch the breath that was knocked out of him. Scott smiled derisively at him. "Sorry, Jackson, but it looks like I'm still better than you." He went to raise a claw to Jackson's face when a force hit him in his own face and sent him flying backwards. That force, he realized, was Derek's foot. Scott felt himself shift back to his own natural form as he looked up at the alpha wolf, who had appeared on the porch of the burned out house. He felt blood drip from his nose.

"That's enough, Scott. I think you proved your point." Derek reached down and helped Jackson up.

Jackson winced in pain. "And what was that, exactly?"

"It's pretty obvious, Jackson. Scott is still better than you. And probably will be since he's been a werewolf longer than you. The best you can hope for is you'll be equals after enough time." Derek looked over at Scott. "Don't worry, Scott, he'll heal by morning."

At the sight of his new alpha, Scott recalled the reason he had been so angry in the first place. "I don't care!" he spat out. He jumped up from the ground while his eyes flashed gold. "What the hell, Derek?" he yelled angrily as he approached the rest of the pack.

Derek looked annoyed, as per usual, and rolled his eyes. "Please Scott, tell me how I've ruined your life again. It's been about three days since the last time."

"You practically forced me to shift in front of my mom tonight!"

Derek remained completely impassive. The lack of reaction on Derek's part only pissed Scott off even further.

Meanwhile, Jackson's eyes widened at the sudden revelation that he had even less control than he thought. "You can do that? Make us shift if we don't want to?" He turned from Derek to Scott to understand.

Scott stared daggers at Jackson, but nodded anyway. "Remember the night in the school, when I left to get the keys and you heard the alpha howl? That was Peter, forcing me to shift and hunt you all down for him." He turned his attention back to Derek, who still hadn't moved. "You couldn't give me an hour? Thirty minutes even? It was the first time she was home at night in, like, a month and she actually cooked! Plus, she just found out I haven't needed my inhalers for, like, the past three months!" Scott yelled, exasperated and held up a clawed hand. "I can't keep this hidden for much longer!"

"Well, you're going to have to," Derek replied simply, staring Scott in the eye. Scott huffed and looked away.

"How? I can't avoid her, we live in the same house. It'd only be more suspicious if I avoided her even more than I do now."

Derek moved in front of Scott now. "Find a way. Or better yet, have Stiles find a way. He's the brains of your little team anyway." His eyes burned red for a moment and there was an audible growl that came from his throat.

Scott was still fuming, but Derek wasn't going to put up with it anymore. He turned around and started to go back inside the house, indicating that the two betas should follow him. "Come on, we have some things to discuss."

"Like what?" Scott asked.

"Like building a pack."


	3. Chapter 3

Melissa McCall was grateful to see both the sheriff's squad car and Stiles' jeep when she pulled into the Stilinski's driveway. Her old car rattled as she put it in park and shut it off. Grabbing her tote bag, she made her way to the front door, intent on getting the answers she wanted. She rang the bell.

She could hear the TV blaring as one of the occupants walked to the front door. She steeled herself, hoping she didn't sound too ridiculous, when the sheriff opened the door.

"Melissa? How are you?" Mr. Stilinski was still in uniform and looked tired. Melissa knew that look, since she so often wore it herself.

"Hi. I was hoping I could talk to Stiles," she paused. "It's about Scott. I know it's late but this really can't wait."

Mr. Stilinski looked concerned. "Sure, sure, come in." He stepped aside to let her in. "Scott hasn't been here today, I don't think." He led her into the living room where Stiles was sitting on the couch, a large bucket of fried chicken in front of him. "Stiles? Mrs. McCall wants to talk to you."

Upon seeing her, Stiles sat up straighter. Stiles said hi or something like it. It was hard to tell with a drumstick in his mouth. She watched as his father motioned for him to take it out. "Hey, Mrs. McCall, what's up?" he tried to sound cheerful, like usual. She studied his expression briefly, trying to judge if he knew why she was here. Melissa sat down in the arm chair next to Stiles, with his dad across from her on the other end of the couch. She noticed Mr. Stilinski's glass of whiskey on the table. He caught her staring. "Uh, would you like some?"

Melissa smiled politely but declined. She instead turned the focus immediately to her topic. "It's Scott."

Pointing the remote at the TV, Stiles turned it off. "What about Scott?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders. He gave both adults a lopsided smile, a small attempt at diffusing the tense parental situation in front of him.

Melissa took in a breath before she started. She looked Stiles in the eyes and asked, "What is going on with him?"

"Ah, what do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Stiles. You of all people should know what I mean," Melissa sighed. "Scott's been different, ever since the beginning of the school year."

Stiles looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, no offense, but he's had a lot stuff... change this year, you know? Making first line and dating Allison, those are pretty big changes for Scott." He looked from his dad to Melissa trying to smile. The stony glare he got from her wiped it right off.

"No," she shook her head, "no, that's not it. And you know it's not what I'm talking about. I've brought this up with you before and you keep trying to brush it off."

Stiles sat there, staring at the bucket of chicken, for once unsure of how to respond to his best friend's mother.

With no response from Stiles, Melissa decided to try another tactic. "What were you and Scott texting about earlier?" she tried to ask nonchalantly.

"Texting? When?" Stiles looked up, confusion apparent on his face. "My phone's been charging in the other room since I got home." He paused. "I definitely haven't texted him since this afternoon." He got up to get his phone. Sure enough, when he returned, he showed the log of his incoming texts. The last one to Scott was at 3:32 pm. The last one from Scott was at 3:37 pm.

Melissa took the phone gently from him, looking at the text messages. They contained totally mundane high school banter, nothing out of the ordinary. She handed his phone back and rummaged through her bag for Scott's phone. "During dinner, Scott kept getting text messages, saying they were from you." She turned the phone on and showed the screen to Stiles and his father. "The only messages he got in the past hour were from a 'Derek Hale.'"

At the mention of the recent fugitive's name, Mr. Stilinski interrupted. "Stiles, why the hell would Scott have Derek Hale's phone number? And why would Scott be texting him?"

Now Stiles looked very uncomfortable. He was biting his thumb nail; a habit Melissa remembered was leftover from elementary school. It was a sure sign she was close to something. She decided to keep pressing Stiles.

"How did he get so good at lacrosse so fast? Why doesn't he need his inhalers anymore?" she paused. "This is way more than a new girlfriend and becoming the lacrosse co-captain. I'm not leaving here until I get the truth about what's going on with Scott. And you know. You know exactly what's going on with him." Melissa knew her voice was rising in volume but she didn't care.

Stiles steeled himself and said quite certainly, "I don't."

"Ok, fine. You want to play hardball, I'm game." Melissa reached again in her bag and pulled out the dog bowl with Scott's name on it. "I found this in Scott's room. Do you know where it came from?"

"Nope, never saw that before," Stiles shook his head.

Melissa turned it over to show the bottom. In sloppy handwriting, "made with love by Stiles" was on the bottom of the bowl. "Start talking."

Mr. Stilinski looked at his son. "Stiles, you'd make a horrible criminal mastermind, you know that?"

Stiles sighed, admitting his guilt. "Ok, so I have seen it before. I gave it to Scott as a joke."

"Why would he think it was funny? A dog bowl?" Melissa pressed.

"He didn't actually. He threw it at me," Stiles explained.

"Stiles," his father started, "if you know something, you better spit it out quick." Both parents were losing patience with him, and Stiles knew he couldn't get out of this.

Stiles pursed his lips together in aggravation and stood up. "I'll be right back," he mumbled. He disappeared from the living room and they could hear him bound up the stairs.

While they waited in uncomfortable silence, Melissa looked at Mr. Stilinski. "I think I'll have that drink after all." He nodded and got up to get her a glass. Melissa could hear Stiles coming down the stairs. He reappeared in the living room, carrying a box in his hands.

Melissa cocked her head to one side, questioning the reason for the box. Stiles walked over to the coffee table in front of her and laid the box down. His father returned with the promised drink for Melissa and handed it to her.

"Stiles, what is all this?" his father asked.

Stiles looked at Mrs. McCall. "So, you want answers? Here you go. This is what I used to put the pieces together. I figure you can too." She looked at him. The last time she saw Stiles this serious was his mother's funeral, years ago. The usually affable young man appeared stressed and upset.

Melissa put the drink down and started to sift through the box. It mostly contained library books. She picked one up. "European Myths and Legends?" Then another. "Creatures of the Night? Stiles, what the hell is this for?"

"What do you think it's for?" He indicated she should continue.

She reached in the box and pulled out another book and read the title to herself. Angrier than before, she stood up and threw the book back in the box. "Stiles, _really_? Do you and Scott think this is some kind of joke? Stop dicking us around!"

"That's actually a really good one," Stiles said, matter-of-fact, regarding the discarded book. He picked it up. "And it's not a joke. I'm not laughing." He held the book out, indicating she should take it back. Melissa looked at the book as if it would burn her. She wasn't going to touch it again. She didn't even want to look at it.

Stiles tried again. "You know it's not just Scott being good at lacrosse or not needing inhalers anymore that made you come over here tonight. Something happened tonight, right? What did you see? What did he do that made you come here?"

Melissa looked at her son's best friend. She saw the weariness now, the burden of carrying Scott's secret with him, in his face. 'He's too young to look like that,' she thought. She wanted to answer him, to tell him about the strange things she noticed: the howling, the way Scott reacted to it, his appetite, the claw marks on the window sill, his eyes...'No way,' she thought to herself, as she sat back down in her seat. She began to get a sick feeling in her stomach, like someone dropped an anvil inside her. Melissa reached for her glass and knocked back her shot of Jack anyway. She rested her elbows on her knees and placed her head in her hands. It felt like her heart dropped out of her chest to join the whiskey in her stomach. She needed a moment.

Stiles' father, however, had had enough of his son's antics. Putting down his empty glass, he took the book Stiles was holding so he could read the cover himself. "The Book of Were-wolves: A 19th Century Study of Lycanthropy? Are you serious, Stiles?" He then began to lay into his son about his odd behavior tonight. "You know what, this is ridiculous." Stiles tried to protest, but Mr. Stilinski held up his hand to stop him. "Tomorrow I'm calling the doctor to have them check your Adderall dosage..."

"NO! It's not the Adderall! This" he gestured emphatically to the books on the table "is all REAL! I wish to God it wasn't, but it is!" He paused looking back at Melissa. "I swear, I'm not lying. You wanted the truth, well, there it is, right in front of you! Scott was bitten by a werewolf out in the woods three months ago." The second the words were out of his mouth, Stiles immediately regretted saying them. He sighed and sat back down on the couch, with his hands rubbing his knees. "Oh, I really should NOT have said all that! Why did I say that? Why?" He heard his father drop the book on the table and he left the room.

Stiles looked to Melissa, who still had her head in her hands, but she wasn't crying - that was a good sign, right? he thought. He felt bad, like he just told her that her son had two weeks to live. Stiles sat there trying to think of something to say. He normally would have a lot to say. Maybe he should tell her about all the cool things Scott could do now? Still contemplating his next move, Stiles jumped a little when he heard Scott's mother speak up.

"No, no, no, no, this is so NOT happening right now," she was saying, mostly to herself, Stiles thought. Suddenly, an idea came to Stiles. He finally came up with something to say. He hoped it would make her see beyond what her mind said was impossible.

"You know, he could hear you that day a few weeks ago. We were in his room when you drove up." Stiles paused, hoping his last ditch effort would convince her. "You were in your car, leaving a message for that guy that tried to go out with you. Scott heard you crying." He hoped she listened to that last part. She must have because Melissa snapped her head up and stared at him, disbelief plain on her face. Before she had a chance to reply, Stiles looked to his left to see his Dad had come back, holding a file. Mr. Stilinski flipped through its contents and pulled out several photos. He handed them to Stiles.

"Those were taken from the security camera the night of the video store clerk murder." The series of photos showed what appeared to be a large animal crashing through the video store's window front, going past Lydia Martin's car. Except in the last photo, the four legged creature was clearly walking on two legs, like a man.

Stiles looked at the photos. "This is way better proof than the books! I didn't know you had these!" Stiles declared excitedly. He looked at his dad and became subdued at his serious expression.

Melissa reached over and took the photos. A worried look crossed her face. After a moment, she spoke quietly. "This," she started, trying to keep her voice from cracking, "this isn't Scott, is it?" she asked Stiles carefully.

Stiles shook his head assuredly. "Oh no! No way. That," he pointed to the two legged figure in the last photo, "was the alpha."

"Alpha?" Melissa asked. She looked to Mr. Stilinski to see if he knew what it meant. He shrugged.

"Alpha werewolf. Leader of the pack," Stiles explained.

"Pack?" Mr. Stilinski repeated. He looked back to Melissa, trying to make sense of the supernatural revelation in his town.

Melissa brought her attention back to Stiles and continued her questions. "So who's this Alpha? Is it someone else in Beacon Hills?"

Stiles nodded. "Oh yeah. You almost went on a date with him. 'Til I rear ended your car." Stiles looked at her; eyebrows raised waiting for her comprehension. He waited for a moment. "And you're welcome," he finished.

Melissa's jaw dropped. Realization setting in, she stood up slowly and said, "Oh God," in a small, worried voice. She repeated it over and over again to herself, switching from worry to shock to extremely creeped out. She started to pace in front of the TV. "Why me?" she looked at Stiles.

"He was trying to use you to get to Scott. He threatened to turn you to get Scott to join his pack and help him kill 'the responsible ones'," Stiles replied, using air quotes to emphasize the last bit.

Melissa stopped pacing and stared at Stiles. She tried imagining her son being a killer. She shook as a chill ran through her body.

Meanwhile, Mr. Stilinski looked as if he couldn't believe he was having this conversation right now. That and he really wanted another shot of Jack. "What do you mean by 'responsible ones'?" he asked Stiles.

He looked at his dad. "The alpha was Peter Hale, Derek Hale's uncle. He's the one that killed all those people, not Kate Argent. He actually killed her too cause she was responsible for planning the fire that burned down the Hale house." He rolled his eyes, saying "it's a really long, complicated story actually. And technically, I really shouldn't be the one to tell it all." He looked pointedly at Melissa.

Mr. Stilinski was still trying to rearrange the details in his head. "So, what does Scott have to do with all this?"

"He's the one that bit Scott the night before school started - OW! What was that for?" Stiles looked at his dad, rubbing his head where his dad's hand had been.

"Scott was out there that night with you, wasn't he? Goddammit, Stiles!" Mr. Stiliniski brought his hand to the bridge of his nose, sighing in frustration at his son. He was about to continue, when Melissa cut in.

"Why?" Her voice sounded small, a foreign accent for a woman usually so direct in her communication. Melissa had sat back down in the armchair, after asking the last question she needed an answer to. Looking at Stiles, she asked it again. "Why Scott?"

Stiles threw his hands up in confusion. "I don't know. Fate? Wrong place, wrong time? I don't think there was a reason why. It could have easily been me that night."

Melissa was still looking at Scott's phone, scrolling through messages, not caring if she violated her son's privacy. "So where does Derek Hale fit in?" she asked finally.

"Derek Hale is the new alpha. He took it when he killed Peter Hale," Stiles explained. "So, it's like, Scott has to answer to him now."

Without hesitation, Melissa stated, "I want to talk to him. Where do I find this guy?" Stiles started to sweat as he noted she was getting that look in her eye again. The last time he saw it, he had been twelve and had accidentally gotten Scott trapped on the roof of the library with a ferret.

Stiles' eyes grew big with shock. This conversation wasn't going to way he thought it would. "Uh, I don't think that's the best idea."

"Why not? If he's involved with my son's life, he better be prepared to answer to me first."

"Yeah, I don't think he'd appreciate knowing that you and the town Sheriff know all about werewolves now." Stiles still thought Derek was scary. The last thing needed to make tonight a complete crapshoot was Scott's mom charging off and declaring werewolf war. That and the fact that he was pretty sure Scott was going to kill him for this.

Melissa was not deterred at all. "He wanted Scott to meet him tonight. Where would he go?"

"Probably the Hale property," reasoned the sheriff. "It's an isolated, private property. It'd be the first place I'd go."

Stiles looked at his dad, chagrined. "Dad, you're not helping here."

"Great, let's go then." Melissa grabbed her things and stood up. "Stiles, you know how to get there right? There's no way my car will make it through those woods, so you won't mind driving, will you?" She looked at him expectantly and smiled.

Stiles opened his mouth to respond, to try to say something to send her home instead. Too late, he realized, as his dad agreed with her.

"Yeah, we'll take you. Stiles, get your keys." The Sheriff went to a cabinet and took out his gun and holster.

"Dad, don't you - don't you think that's a bit much?" Stiles gestured to the handgun, the holster now secured around Sheriff Stilinski's waist.

"Nope. Get your keys." Super Sheriff mode had been engaged.

'Last chance, Stiles,' he thought to himself. "Are you sure you want to go right now? I mean, don't you have more werewolfy questions that I can answer?" He tried to look engaging and knowledgeable. It didn't work.

"You can talk and drive at the same time. Go. Jeep. Now." Melissa pointed to the door.

'Shit, she's gone to single word sentences. Not good.' In defeat, Stiles grabbed his keys and led them out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Both parents assaulted Stiles with questions the second he started the Jeep. Sheriff Stilinski and Melissa took turns firing question after question at Stiles as he attempted to back the Jeep up out of the driveway. They had both gone from being stunned into silence and disbelief to full blown investigative reporting for TMZ in a matter of minutes. Despite what Melissa McCall thought of his multitasking abilities, it really was hard to talk about your best friend becoming a werewolf and drive at the same time.

"Does anyone else know about this...this stuff in town?"

"He didn't bite you, did he?"

"Do they really go crazy on a full moon?"

"His pants were ripped before the semi-formal! Please tell me he doesn't grow a tail, too?"

Stiles sighed, managing to back the Jeep out of the dark driveway and putting it in drive. "Yes, no, yes, and no! Growing a tail? That's just weird. What are you thinking?" He glanced in the rearview mirror at Melissa McCall who had an offended look on her face at his rebuttal.

"It's a valid question! I don't know what...they look like," Melissa responded indignantly, squeezed into the so-called back seat of the Jeep.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "You can't even say it?"

"Say what?"

"Werewolf," Stiles answered definitely. If she wanted the truth, she was going to have to accept it.

Melissa didn't say anything, but looked out the window. The word frightened her more than she cared to admit right now. If she said it, it was real; things like that actually exist. She almost went to dinner with one of them. Her son was one of them.

But Stiles continued, knowing that it could get him in trouble; he didn't care anymore tonight. "I don't get it! You demand that I tell you what's going on but you still act like he just fell into a bad crowd or something, and...and you're just going to swoop in there tonight and take him back home? What are you gonna do? Ground him for being a werewolf?" He got no response from Scott's mom. Stiles could see her still staring out the window, real anxiety apparent now on her face as she bit her lower lip, thinking about what he said. He looked to his father, noting the investigative countenance he had and continued driving through Beacon Hills.

Stiles' outburst reached right into the core of Melissa's worrisome feelings. The real danger Scott was now in was hitting her hard for the first time that night. Over the years she'd been able to help Scott weather painful situations of growing up: his parent's divorce, teasing and bullies, moving to and from his dad's and the breakup with Allison. But this? Helping him deal with being a... _'What am I going to do?'_ she thought to herself. _'What am I going to do when I see him? If I see him? What if he's not even there? What if he doesn't come home? What if he won't come home now?'_ Melissa couldn't stop questioning herself; she was terrified of what the answers might be. The only certainty the night had revealed so far was that the divide between herself and her son was far wider than she ever imagined.

The car ride fell silent, as they began to leave the confines of the town center and head towards the outskirts of the Beacon Hills Preserve. Stiles hated uncomfortable silences, so before a minute had passed, he'd given in to temptation and turned on the radio.

"-lost in a crowd, and I'm hungry like the wooooooooooolf," Duran Duran blared through the radio.

"Really?" Stiles cried exasperatedly. It was now official - the universe was out to get him tonight. He shut the radio off. The uncomfortable silence remained.

Melissa spoke up in the back seat. "Reel Big Fish covered it better anyway," she sighed. Stiles had forgot Scott's mom was a ska fan. When he'd found that out a few years ago, Melissa McCall rose up a few more notches on the 'Cool Mom' list.

Melissa was staring at her hands in her lap. She finally decided to bring _it _up, what she saw that night. "His eyes," she started. "His eyes were the first thing I noticed. There was a howling noise outside and his eyes were...yellow, gold maybe? He tried to hide it, but I saw." She took in a slow breath before continuing, while both men didn't dare interrupt her. "He could smell a package of peanut butter cookies I had just bought, unopened in the pantry. In his room, there were claw marks all over the window sill."

"See any blood on the floor?" Stiles asked.

Melissa looked confused. "What? No, I don't think...why would there be blood on the floor?"

Stiles stared at ahead at the road, solemnly. "I had to handcuff him to the radiator last full moon. He broke the handcuffs. He must've cleaned it up already."

At the thought of his only son being in such relative danger, Sheriff Stilinski interjected, "You really had to do that, Stiles?"

"Well I never got around to planting that Whomping Willow for his backyard..."

"Jesus..." the sheriff sighed. He glanced back at Melissa before directing his original question to Stiles. "So, there are other people in this town that know about this werewolf stuff?"

Stiles sighed and said, begrudgingly, "Yes, other people know. Not a lot, but they're out there." He looked to his dad. "We need to keep it that way, ok? I'm serious, you can't go charging in there trying to get involved in this whole mess."

"I'm already involved now, Stiles!" the Sheriff exclaimed. "I'm sitting in your car on our way to confront some secret _werewolf_ pack that a kid I've known for ten years is a part of and that you've been helping! This whole mess puts me in a real bad situation. How am I supposed to do my job and keep _this _a secret?"

The Jeep came to an abrupt halt, just as they approached the entrance to the preserve. "You're in a bad situation?" Stiles was fuming now. "Do you have to watch as your best friend goes berserk every full moon? Do you get to listen to him scream in freaking agony when you chain him up for his own good? Or - or see the girl you've had a crush on for eight years get ripped open by some animal that's also after your best friend? How about knowing that if it wasn't for your stupid idea, Scott never would have been in the woods that night in the first place?" Stiles struck the steering wheel. "Sorry, but I think I win this one, Dad!"

The sheriff appeared like he had more to say on the subject but thought better of it. He would need to bide his time to have that conversation with Stiles later.

Stiles went to throw the Jeep back into drive when he felt a hand on his right shoulder. "It's ok, Stiles," Melissa said gently. "It's not your fault. You know that, right?" A little tension left his shoulders with her words and he relaxed back into the driver's seat.

"We're only about ten minutes away," Stiles muttered. "You prepared?"

"Oh sure. I'm definitely prepared to confront my only son about his secret werewolf life," Melissa deadpanned.

_'FINALLY!'_ Stiles smiled into the rearview. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Melissa rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. After a moment, she thought of something, something so obvious she should have asked earlier. "Stiles, have you two thought of looking for some type of cure or something?"

'_Duh! Of course we have!_' Stiles had wanted to shout, but instead took a different route. "Yeah," Stiles conceded, tiptoeing around a bigger issue. "We tried a few things, did some research, but nothing's really panned out." Stiles paused, debating on whether to divulge this next bit of information. "Derek had told Scott that you had to kill the one that bit you, but he ended up killing the Alpha instead."

Melissa froze. "What?" she asked quietly.

But Stiles continued, trying to explain. "He said it was only a rumor he'd heard, he wasn't sure it would work..."

"Derek Hale told Scott there was a cure and then he took it away?" Melissa said the words slowly. "He lied to Scott?"

"Well, we don't know for sure but -" Stiles began before he was cut off by Mrs. McCall.

"But nothing. I was pretty pissed off earlier, but now? Now, I am mad. Drive." Fuming in the little back seat, Melissa grabbed Scott's phone again. Scrolling through the conversations, she found the one she wanted and furiously began typing a reply.

* * *

><p>"ENOUGH!"<p>

The command reverberated through the skeleton of the Hale house and forced the two young betas to stop in mid-fight, the ninth one that night. Derek watched as Scott let go of Jackson's head and waited for Jackson to release Scott's waist, which he did after an additional growl out of Derek. They both stood up, checking on their own healing wounds and eyeing each other warily. Derek quickly surveyed his home. It was a good thing the Hale house was going to be razed in a few weeks. After the damage being done tonight, there wouldn't be much left if pack meetings continued to go this way. The two betas were at each others throats for the slightest infraction, with Jackson trying to overcompensate for a lack of experience and control and Scott working out his "mommy issue", as Jackson so eloquently put it.

Derek impatiently eyed the both of them before he spoke. "This is never going to work if the two of you don't try to get along." Derek had been trying to discuss the pack mentality with Scott and Jackson and they were not exactly grasping the lessons as easily as Derek expected they would. He found from past experience that bitten betas were just different. They don't tap into those intrinsic instincts that other werewolves were just born with; it took time to learn how to listen to them. With Jackson's introduction to the pack, Scott seemed to be doing remarkably well for a bitten wolf, even though Derek did not tell him so. It was obvious to him since the last full moon that Scott was concentrating more on carving out a higher role for himself in the pack, whether Scott realized it or not. Since the only other beta Scott had ever been around was Derek, there had been no question as to the chain of command in the small pack of two.

Derek got no reaction from his betas as they stood in front of him, not meeting his gaze. "Let's try this again. And if I see claw or fang out of either of you, I'll remove them myself." Both betas shifted back, not keen on their alpha's form of punishment.

"Good. Now I'll make this simple. Werewolves survive best in packs. Lone wolves...not so much. Lone wolves are either hunted, killed, or eventually absorbed into another pack. By staying together, we can better protect ourselves - from the Hunters and other wolves. If we can better protect ourselves, our day to day lives can remain uninterrupted. Now, isn't that what you both want?"

They both nodded, but Scott tried to interject, "But why do you want an even bigger pack? You can't just go around biting people without giving a shit, just so you can get stronger!" It was obvious Scott still held a residual grudge over the circumstances of his own bite three months prior. Jackson sniggered, his distaste for Scott's unwillingness apparent to all of them. Derek watched as Scott's eyes flashed in anger but he remained motionless, trying to focus on following orders. Derek approached Jackson instead, seeing his smirk melt away off his face the closer he got.

Derek smiled. He did it so infrequently that it wasn't usually a happy occasion when he did. "You think its funny?" He backed Jackson up to the wall against the staircase. "You, Jackson, got a choice. Scott didn't. You can sit there and think that he's wasting what he was given all you want. But if you demonstrate it in anyway in front of me or him, you are gone. Done. A lone wolf in the middle of nowhere. I may as well tie you up and leave you on the Argents' doorstep. If you can't support your pack, you're not in a pack. Do you understand?" Jackson's nodded, not meeting his gaze.

"Good. And no, Scott, I'm not going to go around biting people without giving a shit," he said definitively. "But if an opportunity presents itself, I'm not passing it up. There's also the possibility there may be werewolves that want to join this pack." He watched as that information sunk into both betas. "And they're not going to want to do that if you two can't get your shit together." Scott and Jackson nodded in sullen agreement and Derek continued. "Building a pack is not about biting as many people as you can get your teeth on. Its about solidarity, power and safety in numbers. The dangers that we are going to face out there are inevitable, especially since the Argent family knows about Scott and that I'm the new alpha. I don't know if they know about you yet, Jackson, but they will. And when they do, you'll need a pack to trust. So start acting like you trust each other, in front of me, in school, and on that damn lacrosse field."

"Fine," Scott said gloomily.

Derek looked to Jackson for any dissent, but found none. The second beta only nodded his head in reluctant agreement.

"Good, now -" Derek began before he was cut off by his phone beeping. His train of though cut off, his unlocked his phone and saw he had a new text message. Scott and Jackson watched as the trademark angry scowl overtook his features while he read whatever had just come through. Derek's eyes rose from his phone to find Scott.

"Scott." The request sounded more like a growl than an actual name.

"What?" Scott snapped.

"Where's your cell phone?" Derek enunciated each word carefully.

Scott hurriedly felt his pockets and checked his jacket. "Uh, its, um...oh! Its at home. I left it there. Well, my mom got mad and took it." A worried look came over him. "Wait, why?"

Derek stepped forward, holding out the phone screen for both of them to read.

_I don't know who you think you are, but I'm coming for Scott. If you hurt him, I will hunt you down. I'll have your head stuffed and mounted over my fireplace. Whatever horrible thing you can think of, I WILL DO IT if you've done anything to him! _

Scott's jaw dropped as he read and re-read the message. "We don't have a fireplace," he said slowly. "And she hates hunting." Then, as the reality of what the message actually meant, Scott looked at Jackson and Derek, horrified. "She found out! She's gonna freakin' kill me! Oh my god, she's gonna kill me!"

"How could she have found out? Who would've told her? Stiles? Allison's dad?" Jackson asked. Barely a week goes by of being a werewolf and his secret was about to blown by Scott McCall's mom.

"I - I don't know!" Scott cried out. "Stiles would never -" Scott was cut off as the three of them saw headlights coming through the windows.

"That's Stiles' jeep," Jackson said, as he raced to a nearby window for a better view.

"See, its just Stiles, no big deal, right?" Scott was getting nervous. They heard two car doors slam.

"And his dad and your mom. Shit, you're in trouble now, McCall, she looks pissed," Jackson confirmed, backing away from the window. "Derek, what do we do?"

Derek seethed at the prospect of the unwelcome guests. He wasn't prepared to start teaching Werewolf 101 to the town sheriff and Scott's mom tonight. Quickly, he gave out an order. "Hide. The house is too dangerous to stay in for long. Hide until they give up."

"But -" Scott started, but stopped when he realized he was starting to shift. Derek could hear his heart rate going up. The idea of revealing everything to his mother in a matter of seconds did nothing to keep Scott calm.

"Hide. Now!" Derek commanded and the three wolves scattered in the house.

* * *

><p><em>Sorry for the delay and leaving you with another cliffhanger. I swear, the end is nigh and will be posted soon. Any updates and discussions for my fics can be found in my author chat in the Teen Wolf fanfiction forum, so feel free to stop by there.<em>

_And I can't take credit for the Harry Potter reference. That goes to the good people at the TW twitter recaps at AfterElton dot com._


	5. Chapter 5

Outside, Melissa McCall approached the burnt out remnants of the Hale House. It was cold out and she was beginning to wish she had brought a coat instead of the thick sweater she had on. This was what she'd been waiting for. Inside that house was her son and the answers she had wanted from him. She knew he was in there. She saw sneaker prints on the ground in front of the house and they were recent, she was certain. She heard Stiles and his father conferring behind her back at the Jeep. Melissa turned her head to see what they were saying.

With her attention on them, the Stilinski men stopped talking and regarded Melissa. The Sheriff took one look at the house and began to shake his head. "Melissa, I can't let you go in there. Even when my guys were in there, it wasn't safe. The house is falling apart."

Melissa saw Stiles roll his eyes at his dad's cautiousness. "It'll be fine," she waved off his concerns and took the steps up to the front door. As she tried the door knob, and image flashed through her mind, one of Scott when he was eight and she had taken him trick-or-treating for Halloween. He sometimes got so excited if neighbors took too long to get to the door that he would try to open it himself if she wasn't paying attention. Melissa felt her eyes fill up suddenly; she wanted her little boy back and out of this burned out husk of a home. Steeling herself, she grasped the door knob and turned, expecting resistance. She was surprised when it turned quite easily and opened up in front of her. Melissa peered inside, noting how dark it was. She took her phone out of her pocket to enable the flashlight app Scott had said she needed to have. Casting the dull light from her phone around the ground floor, Melissa saw just how damaged the house really was. Decrepit fixtures, burned hallways and ceilings surrounded her as she took a tentative step over the thresh hold. She left the door wide open, hoping that somehow it would allow more light inside. Melissa stepped over a broken floorboard as she passed the front stairs and went to the right into what she thought was once a grand foyer.

There was no sign of anyone here. The only sounds she heard were the creaks and groans of an old family house, not unlike her own. Looking above, Melissa saw the remnants of an old chandelier, black and burnt, swinging slightly and quite precariously from the high ceiling. What was left of the musty rafters branched out from around it and all throughout the house, parts here and there broken off. She still heard the sheriff and Stiles outside, presumably arguing at the tone of their voices. She was surprised neither had followed her in, for all the concern they had shown. Then, it dawned on her. Stiles was stalling his father - but, for what? She decided to stop wasting time and get what she came for.

"Scott?" Melissa called out tentatively. More silence greeted her. "Scott, please come out." She paused, trying to give him time. "Scott? Stiles told me, um, everything." She tried to keep her voice light, with a small laugh at the end. She had never been good at discussing difficult subjects with her son unless she made them not quite so serious. No matter how many times she used the tactic, it never seemed to help, but it didn't stop her from resorting to it every time.

She continued to walk around the ground floor of the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of him somewhere. Finally, impatient and tired, a frustrated noise escaped her mouth and she called out, "Scott Michael McCall, you have thirty seconds to get your butt out here, NOW!" She listened as her voice echoed around the house and waited, fuming. "If you don't come out here, I'm gonna slap every tooth, or fang, or whatever out of your mouth!" Scott was apparently just a stubborn as Melissa was, because there was no sign of anyone, once again. "Fine. There goes your cell phone. Gone. I'm deleting it off the account tomorrow. Still want to hide?" She paused. "Fine, no more internet. That's gone too. Oh, while I'm at it, your bike. I'll drive you to school and pick you up myself. And you may as well quit your job because you are going to be grounded until you are thirty two," she paused, not sure if she wanted to say the next phrase on her mind. She decided she did. "Werewolf or not!"

From his hiding spot in the open room across from the stairs, Scott watched as his mother, with her back to him, started to throw out threats. He spied Jackson watching him from a few feet away. "Why don't you just go out there?" he whispered low, knowing only Scott could hear it.

Scott whispered back, just as quiet, "I can't! I can't go out there like this?" He gestured to his appearance. He was stuck in mid-shift, his eyes the familiar gold color, with fangs and claws marking his mouth and hands. He couldn't make them go away; he had thought about finding something to stab at his hand with, to force a shift through pain. As fate would have it, there was no sharp object anywhere, not even a shard of glass. With the imminent threat of his secret about to be uncovered by the one person he really tried to keep it from, his heart kept racing, pounding out of his chest. If it wasn't for the amazing constitution of werewolf health he had now, Scott was sure he would be having the mother of all asthma attacks.

"Why not?" Jackson retorted almost silently. "Its pretty obvious she knows."

Ignoring Jackson's taunting, Scott clamped his eyes shut, trying to think of Allison, but she kept turning into his mother with a horrified look on her face, the same face Allison had worn when she finally saw him from the school bus. Frustrated, Scott tried to think of other things, hoping his mother's image wouldn't invade that too, like that night last week on Allison's roof...He gradually began to feel his heart start to slow and relief when fangs began to shrink in his mouth. Then, Scott heard a creak. His eyes, brighter than before, snapped open to see the chandelier in the grand foyer. Only ten minutes ago, Jackson had tried to launch Scott off the stairs and into the chandelier. Luckily, instead of crashing into it, Scott had deftly grabbed hold of one of its arms and dropped safely to the floor. It had stayed in place then, but the after effects of the fight were now taking its toll at the worst possible moment. Scott watched as the fixture wobbled under its own weight, the stress of movement weakening the screws that had held it in place for years. "_Oh, come on! Really?_" he said silently to himself. He saw the chandelier almost silently give away and begin to fall to the ground, where it would land directly on top of his mother. Fear and panic gathered up inside his chest, knowing that fate already made his decision for him tonight. In a split second, all the progress he had made to return to human form had vanished and Scott launched himself from the alcove he was in, hoping to get to his mother before the chandelier did.

Melissa heard it before she saw it. The air made a swift sound as she looked up to see the aged burnt crystal and brass rush towards her. A part of her knew it was too late, and still, she made an attempt to brace for the impact. Except the only impact she felt did not come from above, but from behind her. Arms encircled her waist, tumbling them both away from the crash. '_Scott!'_ she thought, relieved that he finally showed himself. She knew it had to be him. Her hands searched for his, desperate to touch him after everything that she learned tonight. She felt the weight of Scott on her back and heard his breath by her ear as they both came to a halt by the wall. Melissa opened her eyes, careful of the dust that was now swirling around the room. She placed her hands on the floor in front of her, so as to steady herself.

So did Scott. A familiar hand, each finger ending with a sharp claw, let go of her waist and came down next to her own. Melissa froze, staring at it through the dust settling around them. Seeing the truth in that one moment pierced her to the core. '_Oh my God...' _she thought, '_it's real.'_ She wanted to speak, to be able to say something reassuring to Scott, to tell him she loved him or that she could understand, anything. Before she had a chance to, the hand was gone. Scott had risen up to stand and began to walk away from her.

"Wait!" she cried after him. "Scott!"

Melissa stood up and turned around quickly, only to see Scott heading towards the staircase, pulling the hood of his sweat shirt over his head and quickly jamming his hands in his pockets. She ended up saying the one thing she didn't want to even though it stopped him just the same. "Don't you dare try to walk away from me!" The words flying from her mouth before she could think. She watched as his shoulders slumped in defeat. Melissa was afraid it sounded too harsh; she hadn't meant for it to come out that way. She started to walk towards her son, a hopeful hand outstretched to reach for him.

It was just one word that she had managed to get out of him. "Don't," she heard him say. It wasn't the word she was hoping to hear. His voice sounded different, as if he might be coming down with something. The warning tone he used made Melissa stop dead in her tracks. "What do you mean, 'don't'?" she asked him.

Scott continued on to the stairs, staying in the shadows, just enough so that she couldn't see what he didn't want her to see. "Just...don't stay here. It's not safe." He sighed, "Please, just go home. I'll be there later."

Melissa saw his head move, to glance through the front door, still half open. Stiles was out there, as was his father, but still, neither had decided to come inside, or rather, Stiles kept his father from rushing inside. Melissa was thankful for that.

Melissa began to walk towards the door. Even though she couldn't make out his face, Melissa felt Scott watching her every move, making sure she did what he asked her. She stopped at the door, dipping her gaze to see Stiles and the Sheriff in front of the porch, waiting. Sheriff Stilinski was concerned; one hand resting near his holster. Stiles was talking, still doing his best to prevent him from taking charge. Stiles knew, somehow, that she and Scott needed this uninterrupted moment. Melissa gave him a slight smiled before turning back to her son. Then her right foot came out in front of her and with a quick movement, the door shut swiftly.

She issued her ultimatum. "I'm not leaving here tonight unless you are in that car with me. Do you understand?"

"Mom-" he began, trying again to dissuade her.

"No!" Melissa shouted, taking a step towards Scott. He took another step up the staircase, keeping the distance between them. She could feel her lower lip tremble and she swore to herself she would not cry right now. She tried her best to keep her voice from wavering. "You are leaving this place. With me. I don't care what happened, how it happened, or why it happened. But I _know _it happened." She took a tentative step towards him and then another. To her surprise, Scott stayed where he was on the staircase so she decided to go further. "And I can understand -"

"Understand?" Scott interjected, anger and embarrassment clear in his tone. "How can you possibly understand what this is like?" She watched as Scott dropped down to sit on the stairs, his hands out of his pockets coming to support his head. She found herself staring at his fingertips, trying to see what she saw before through the dark. Melissa didn't want to admit that she found herself somewhat fascinated by what happened to Scott. She snapped out of her thoughts as Scott continued. "This isn't like helping me through a bad breakup or - or dealing with dad."

No, it definitely wasn't going to be like either of those things. "Well, I was going to say that I can understand why you didn't tell anyone. You never were the type of kid that wanted to make anyone upset. Or worried." She let out a little sigh, recalling instances of her son's amicable behavior, especially during The Divorce. "And you probably assumed that something like this would upset your awesome mom, right?" Even though he wasn't looking at her, Melissa tried to smile anyway.

Still, with his head in his hands, he responded, depressed. "Are you going to try to tell me it doesn't? Cause I really don't think I'd believe you."

It broke her heart to hear Scott so despondent. She wanted more than anything to fix this for him, but knew she couldn't. So she did the only thing she knew how to do.

Scott knew she had come closer, listened to her heart beat, steady and strong, approaching him slowly and gently, as she sat down next to him on the steps. He was terrified of what her reaction might be, when she saw, _really saw_, what he now was. This was his biggest fear that came with his curse. It wasn't that he turned into a monster. It wasn't that he couldn't control himself. Scott was sure that the rejection he would inevitably receive from those that he needed the most, the most important people in his life, was what he feared the most. How could anyone want to be around him as _this_? How could he let them down like that?

But...

Stiles saw him. He never left his side, never wavered in his loyalties, no matter what Scott had done to him.

Allison saw him. She wasn't afraid, even when finally faced with the truth, she embraced it, _embraced him_, and vowed to stand by his side.

So, why did he think his own mother wouldn't?

Scott froze as he felt the tips of his mother's fingers touch upon the top of his head. She gently forced the hood of his sweat shirt to fall away. He braced himself to hear shock, fear, disappointment from his mother's reaction, but none came. Her fingertips began to move back and forth across the back of his head. The familiar touch brought him back to every time he was sick, every asthma attack that landed him at the doctor's, or every sleepless night he had as a little kid; she did this for him to help keep him calm, to help him breathe. Scott could hear his own heart begin to slow, every beat trying to match hers. Slowly, he felt the wolf melt away as his mother's hand drifted down to rest on his back, steadily rubbing it in a circular motion.

Melissa was glad Scott did not seem to object as she began to nudge the hood off of his head. She applied her maternal instincts, in an attempt to soothe him, and she could tell it was working like it always had. Through her touch on his back, Melissa could feel something quiver slightly through her son as Scott turned his head slowly towards her, to gauge her reaction. Even in the little light she had from the glow of her cell phone now in her lap, Melissa was able to see what Scott tried so hard to keep from her for the first time that night. She searched for the eyes that made her gasp earlier in the evening; there was a faint iridescence there but the dimness of the room didn't illuminate them any further. The features that appeared on his sullen demeanor looked so otherworldly, unlike anything she could imagine from any horror movie, and yet, it somehow made perfect, natural sense. It took everything she had, but she kept her face neutral, not wanting to give Scott a reason to think she couldn't deal with this. Even so, Melissa sat captivated, watching, as the glowing eyes, the sharp teeth, the claws faded away, leaving just the Scott she knew behind.

As Scott breathed in a shaky breath, his mother spoke softly to him. "It's not so bad, you know?" Melissa attempted to sound positive, but she wasn't sure if she was talking to herself more than Scott. "Could be worse."

_'Oh yeah, it could get a lot worse, Mom,' _Scott thought darkly. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you right now." Scott could only shake his head. "So, how much did Stiles tell you?" he sighed, defeated.

"Pretty much everything although, I'm sure there's a few things you could fill me in on," Melissa looked at him pointedly as Scott hung his head and groaned. "And don't be mad at him. He didn't have a choice in the matter." She stood up and walked down the steps. Her head turned back, to see if he would follow. "Let's go. We need to get out of this death trap before anything else decides to fall on me."

With a glance back in the darkened house, Scott followed his mother out. There was no sign of either Derek or Jackson. '_I guess I can go?' _he questioned to himself.

The two greeted the Stilinskis out front. Scott wasn't quite sure how everything that had been revealed was going to go over with the Sheriff. He began to feel uncomfortable in his presence, embarrassed of his 'condition' and what may be thought of him. He hated it, that feeling of being scrutinized for things that happened beyond his control. Scott glanced at Stiles, who gave him a somewhat sheepish look, showing that he was sorry for spilling everything. '_Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I couldn't expect him to be stuck with keeping it secret forever.' _Scott shrugged in response, seeing that Stiles knew things were ok between them.

Sheriff Stilinski, however, looked from Scott to his mother. "You mind telling me what the hell happened in there?" It was obvious his mind was cataloging the many infractions that occurred tonight.

Melissa waved off his concern. "Nothing. It's fine now."

The Sheriff did not look convinced. "I'm getting the housing authority out here tomorrow and get this place condemned." He turned to both teenagers. "If I find out that either one of you has been back here after tonight..." he began to threaten.

"Dad, come on, we're not _that _stupid," Stiles placated, knowing full well that the two of them would probably find themselves back at the Hale house sooner rather than never.

Scott, meanwhile, was still concerned about his mother's attitude about his condition. He wasn't buying the flippant mindset she was displaying. "You sure you're not pissed about all this?"

"Oh no, I'm definitely pissed," Melissa started and Scott visibly winced. "But not at you, Scott. Where's this Derek?" She caught Scott and Stiles share a worried glance. "What are you not telling us now?" she complained.

"Let's just go. You don't need to talk to him," Scott replied, gesturing towards Stiles' Jeep.

"Oh yes I do. I have to tell him that you are never associating with him again," Melissa declared. "Ever. And if I find out he's trying to contact you in any way, I'm filing a restraining order against him."

Scott looked uncomfortable. "It's, uh, not really that simple, Mom."

"Why?" she pressed.

"Well," Scott started searching for an answer, but stopped. Melissa could see his eyes lose their focus and he turned around back towards the burned out house. Melissa followed his gaze to find Derek Hale, with Jackson behind him, standing on the front porch of the house.

Jackson looked as indecisive as Scott felt, having no choice but to have followed Derek outside. Derek himself stood there, glaring at the intruders on his property, or more specifically, the adults. "Why did you come here? Its private property."

"Look, Derek," Scott tried to diffuse the situation. He took a few careful steps towards his alpha, trying to placate the situation.

"Shut up, Scott," Derek ordered.

"HEY!" The group stopped to stare at Melissa McCall, whose voice rang out in revolt.

"I wasn't talking to you," Derek warned, staring daggers at Scott's mother.

Melissa stared at the young man in front of her, not much older than Scott. She knew she ought to be afraid of him. Considering what she'd found out Scott might be capable of, she wasn't particularly interested to find out what this one could do. She mustered up whatever courage was left and issued her own warning. "You can't talk to him that way. That's my job. And only after he's done something really, _really_ dumb!"

Derek took steps down the stairs, getting closer, daring Melissa to say more. "Right, and that _never _happens," Derek replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Scott bristled with anger over the remark and the increasing proximity between his alpha and his mother. Jackson followed Derek down the stairs, his smirk from earlier that night long gone as he cast a confused look towards Scott and Stiles. He wasn't quite sure what Derek had in mind tonight now, but from Scott's reaction, he didn't think it could be good.

"Stiles get in your car and go." Derek turned his attention to the two wolves. "Scott, Jackson. Get inside. We're not done here yet." He stood, waiting for them to follow orders. A moment passed with neither beta moving and Derek sent a menacing sounding growl their way.

Fed up, Sheriff Stilinski stepped forward to confront the former suspect. "Who do you think you are, ordering these kids around like this? Did you get them to do your dirty work for the past three months too, trying to get to this alpha Stiles keeps talking about?" The sheriff made sure Derek could see his gun attached at his hip, although Derek didn't seem to care.

Melissa chimed in. "Scott's not going back in there. He's going home."

Derek balked at her order. "Scott can go when I say he can. He's in _my _pack!"

Melissa McCall exploded. "Well,_ I'm_ his alpha first! He's _my _SON! MY FAMILY! I don't care what weirdo supernatural rules out there say otherwise, but I called dibs on him first! Go bite someone else's kid, but leave mine alone!" She paused to take a breath and glanced at Jackson, who was still on the porch behind Derek. "Oh wait, my mistake, I bet you already did that! Who's next? Are you going to go after Stiles, too? Hey, while you're at it, why not take the entire Beacon Hills High lacrosse team?"

Derek smirked, obviously amused by the outburst. "Now why would I do that?" he replied, leaning down, getting closer to Mrs. McCall. "Stiles is _second _line." He heard Stiles in the background complaining about the dig.

"Really? I only saved your ass against the alpha. I never got a 'Thank You' by the way."

Stiles' indignant reaction may have distracted Derek for a moment, but he still saw what was coming and did nothing to stop it. He didn't really believe she'd resort to that.

The sharp crack echoed around them as Derek's face felt the sting of Melissa McCall's open palm.

Melissa didn't know why she did it, a bad parenting reflex perhaps. She'd slapped Scott once in her life and that was only because he let out a string of the vilest language she'd ever heard come from an eight year old's mouth. She felt terrible afterwards and apologized profusely for it. But not this time. She meant the pain she tried to cause to the young man in front of her. She wished she could do it again, even though her hand began to ache, like she hit a concrete wall. Melissa knew he could have stopped her, or moved out of the way, and she wasn't sure why he didn't do either. She watched the red mark on his cheek fade almost instantaneously, while his expression darkened. Melissa swiftly took a step back, sorry that she acted so rashly without knowing what she was committing herself too. She just slapped a werewolf across the face. The blue eyes staring at her began to burn red and teeth grew sharp. The longer she stared, the closer Derek seemed to get.

She then gasped as two bodies jumped in front of her, crouched in defensive stances. Both Scott and Jackson had shifted quickly and were now between her and Derek. She felt the Sheriff come up behind her and take her by the shoulder, leading her away, back towards the Jeep. She stared at Scott as her son and Jackson faced off against Derek Hale. Melissa felt her heart race as she began to panic for Scott's safety. "No! I can't leave him there...!" she cried, wrestling against the grip Stiles' father had on her.

Sheriff Stilinski refused to let her go. "Stay back, Melissa," he warned.

Stiles agreed. "Can't you see? _You're _the one they're trying to keep safe!" he explained.

Melissa stared at Scott. She finally saw him, the real Scott; not a precocious kid from her memories or a sneaky teenager carefully avoiding all the right conversations. She didn't even see the mythological werewolf. What was really there was a young man. He stood there by that house, prepared to protect those around him, with everything he had. Scott had grown up and she never even let herself admit it before now. As much as she cherished every memory she had of him as a little boy, it wasn't who he was anymore. Melissa just wasn't prepared to let go of that part of him yet; she was afraid she didn't know who he was now.

Amidst the growls coming from in front of the house, Scott was heard issuing a warning to the alpha werewolf, his voice low and angry. "Don't touch my mom," he declared. "Don't even look at her. If you do..." Scott trailed off, too angry to come up with anything.

Derek drew himself back, once again appearing normal. "And if I do?" he asked stiffly, not wavering from his pack's glare.

"We'll stop you," Jackson threatened.

Surprised, Scott sent a glance to his left at Jackson when he spoke up. Jackson had followed his lead and stood next to him to protect his mother, shocking behavior for the usually self-serving jock. Scott tried to focus back on Derek, determined to stop whatever game he was playing. The three faced off in silence, waiting for Derek to make a move.

Tension in the air between the pack was thick until Derek stepped back and spoke in straightforward manner. "Fine. Scott, tell your mom she's got nothing to be afraid of from us. We'll take care of her precious baby boy." He paused, watching as both betas postures deflated a bit with their alpha's sudden change of heart. "And as for the two of you," his glare returned, putting both of them on guard, "You need to protect the identity of this pack. Don't let anyone else find out about us. And since they know," Derek glanced in the direction of Mrs. McCall, the Sheriff and Stiles, watching the exchange from the Jeep, "you have to make them understand how important it is to keep this secret. If they don't, you know it won't be me they'll have to worry about in the long run." Derek bore his gaze into both betas to be sure he was understood. He then turned away from them abruptly and headed back towards his home. "Glad you two finally caught on. You're free to go." Scott and Jackson both watched as he briskly walked up the stairs and into his decrepit house, gesturing for them to leave with a wave of his hand.

Both of the young werewolves were thoroughly confused. "Was that just..." Jackson started to ask, turning to look at Scott for some clarification.

Scott had shifted back but still kept the confused look on his face. "He did all that just to teach us a lesson?"

"Is he serious?" Distaste spread across Jackson's face. "What a psychotic asshole!" He was beginning to wonder exactly what he'd gotten himself into attaching himself to Derek Hale.

Stiles jogged up to the two, eyeing Jackson since he still wasn't used to seeing him as a werewolf now. "What happened? Why'd he leave? I thought he was going to kick both your asses and then move on to us."

"I think it was all for show? He kept going on and on about pack mentality and whatever before you all showed up," Scott tried to explain. "We didn't exactly pay attention."

Stiles looked from Scott to Jackson and noticing the obvious difference, he asked the jock, "Why aren't you changed back yet?"

Jackson took on a defensive glare. "I will. Just give me a minute!" A minute passed with no apparent changes.

Scott gave Jackson a lopsided grin. "I know how to fix it."

Jackson rolled his eyes in annoyance at his co-captain. He was never going to get used to Scott being better than him. "Yeah, I know, McCall, you're a better werewolf than me. I get it," he spit out. "So if you know, tell me then."

Before he could sense it, Scott's fist squarely connected with one of Jackson's perfect cheekbones, sending the boy down. As the pain dissipated, Jackson realized he had shifted back before he had hit the ground. He looked up at Scott and Stiles, who both looked quite satisfied with the outcome of the punch, seeing the former lacrosse star player dealt with so easily while he was off guard.

"Didn't you pick up on that yet? Pain brings you back," Scott clarified. Now it was his turn to smirk at Jackson, remembering how Derek taught him that lesson. He offered a hand down to help him up, a hand that Jackson grudgingly took.

"Gee, thanks," he replied sarcastically. "Where do you think Derek went anyway?"

"Probably a secret lair. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's got a secret lair somewhere. Definitely seems more of a 'lair' type than, say, a townhouse, don't you think?" Stiles deduced, before turning back to Scott. "Dude, come on," he nodded to Scott, "your mom's about to have a nervous breakdown or something. You need to go."

Scott turned to find his mother with the Sheriff, back by Stiles' Jeep. She was still worried, not because of the look on her face, but Scott could somehow smell it in the air. It felt like a warning being issued and Scott suddenly wanted to leave as much as his mother did. He turned back to Jackson, nodded, and started walking towards the Jeep with Stiles. Jackson, ready to go home as well, followed suit and walked to where he had parked his Porche earlier than night.

The ride back was uneventful. All four of them were tired, considering it was 12:30 in the morning. The Jeep was silent except for Melissa's carefully worded questions about how Scott was feeling. I don't know, was all he could answer her with and she wisely left it at that. As they arrived at the Stilinski house, they exited the Jeep. Before going to her own car, Melissa went up to Stiles and his father, while Scott hung back at his mother's beat up sedan.

"Thank you for helping me tonight." She wanted to say more but could not articulate how to thank someone for investigating werewolf activity with her.

Stiles tried to cover the yawn that came over him but failed. "S'ok," he replied, brushing off her gratitude, as if there had been a real possibility he'd refuse Mrs. McCall for help.

His father agreed. "It's not a problem, Melissa. We've been put through enough crap from these two over the years, we should be used to it by now." He gave her a friendly smile, before continuing on a more serious note. "Stiles, Scott?" he looked between both boys. "We are having a long talk about all of this. Very soon. Like, this weekend soon. You understand?"

Scott nodded from his spot by the car, while Stiles looked resigned. "Sure. I'll make sure my werewolf power point presentation is ready for you," he deadpanned.

The Sheriff ignored his son's usual sarcasm and nodded to the McCalls. "Good night." He turned with Stiles and began to walk into their home.

"Good night," Melissa replied, as she walked to her own car. Scott had already gotten in the front passenger seat when she opened her door. He sat there, looking down at his hands. She could tell he wanted to avoid an embarrassing conversation. She wasn't sure if that was going to be possible. Turning the key in the ignition, the car sputtered to life and Melissa backed out of the driveway.

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Where did it bite you?" Melissa asked.

Scott flinched inwardly at the pronoun she chose. The alpha may have been one of the scariest looking creatures Scott had ever been in the presence of, but _he _had been Peter Hale. Just like he was still Scott McCall. "Why does it even matter? It's just going to make you upset. It happened, it healed and -" he was about to say he was fine, but he knew that wasn't true. He was not fine. He was a werewolf now.

"Just please tell me. I want to know. About this, all of it. I know Mr. Stilinski said we'll talk later, but I just want to talk about it now, ok?"

Scott was silent for a minute until he replied. "On my right side. I fixed it up when I got home that night and by the next night it was gone."

Melissa was now sorry she had asked. Visions of Scott being attacked by a...a thing in the woods swarmed her brain. She put her blinker on and waited at the red light in front of them.

"You know I love you, right?" she asked suddenly. It caught Scott off guard as he jerked his head towards her. A car sped by in front of them, the headlight beams reflecting gold in Scott's eyes. _Tapetum lucidum_, she remembered when dissecting a cat's eye in a biology class from nursing school. A film over the eye that allowed an animal's gaze to reflect back the light thrown at them. Just another sign to her that Scott wasn't completely human anymore.

"Yeah, Mom, I know."

The light turned green. Melissa took her left and carefully drove her car over the pot hole riddled street. "Good. Promise me something?"

Scott looked confused. "What?"

"Don't leave. Don't run away from me because of all this that happened," she glanced at Scott, waiting for him to reassure her fears.

But he didn't. He remained silent.

"Why can't you answer that, Scott?"

"Because I don't know if I'll always be able to stay," he finished, staring out the window.

"I'm not talking about going away to college -" she started.

"I know that!" Scott interjected, he voice strained. "I can't always control _this. _There've been times when I really tried to hurt people." He paused, watching as the car took another left onto the familiar street that ended with their house. Visions filled his mind about hunting Stiles down in the locker room, killing Allison on the school bus in his dream, or the anticipation he had that night in the school, envisioning what it be like to rip each of his "pack members" limb from limb. "What if I try to hurt you? I just can't promise that, Mom. I'm sorry." He paused before continuing, knowing that what he said still wouldn't do anything to assuage his mother's fears for him. "I'm still trying to figure myself out, what it does to me and why. That's why I have to go to Derek. He's the only one who can help me control this."

Staring straight ahead, Melissa nodded slightly and processed that statement while pulling into their driveway. She turned the ignition off and both she and Scott got out of the car and headed to the front door. She was trying to get the right key to the front door when she felt Scott reach out and hug her. It was awkward feeling, as if he changed his mind in mid-action but felt it was too late to stop. Immediately, her hands wrapped around him. She was thankful for the contact it provided.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this, Mom." He let go and looked at her, hoping it made her happy.

In a weird way, she knew what Scott was trying to say, even though the exact words didn't come out. She nodded. "I know," she said simply. The front door opened for them and they walked inside.

As Scott made his way up the stairs, Melissa aimed to go into the kitchen to put the food from dinner away. She should have done it before taking off to the Stilinskis.

"Make sure you get some sleep. Don't you have a test tomorrow?" She wanted normal.

"No, chem test is Friday."

"Don't forget to set your alarm," she called, knowing he didn't really need the reminder. He'd probably sleep through it anyway.

"I will. Night, Mom."

Normal. Normal things that a normal mother would say to her normal son. _'Oh, if only.'_

* * *

><p>Scott woke up before the alarm buzzer went off the next morning and groaned at his body's inability to stay asleep through whatever had managed to wake him this early. He could hear music floating up the staircase from the kitchen downstairs. Even though it was on a low volume, his sensitive hearing picked it up.<p>

_Stop your messin' around_

The scent of sizzling bacon and strong coffee permeated the air around him, making more than just his stomach growl. At the thought of food, he felt his incisors start to enlarge ever so slightly in his mouth. He was too lazy to will them back.

_Better think of your future_

In bed, he begrudgingly hummed along to the tune, a favorite of his mother's. She used to sing it to him if he got in trouble with Dad.

_Time you straightened right out_

He could hear his mother singing along a little off key and moving around in the kitchen; water running, silverware clinking together. _'What is she doing up?' _he thought to himself. _'Wait, why is she cooking breakfast?'_ Two home cooked meals in a row was strange for the McCall household.

"Creatin' problems in town," he mumbled along to the song. He sighed and opened his eyes. The alarm clock told him it was 6:26 and his alarm was about to go off in four minutes. Now more hungry than sleepy, he pushed himself up and out of bed, stumbling towards the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, Scott strolled into the kitchen, backpack and lacrosse stick slung across his shoulder. He looked around the kitchen quizzically, his mother in her pajamas at the stove. The table had hot pancakes, eggs, and bacon. "What's all this?"

Melissa turned around, surprised. She hadn't even heard him come down the stairs. "Well, its breakfast!" She spread her arm out over the spread on the table. She put on a smile for him, though he noted how tired and bloodshot her eyes looked. She would probably blame it on long hours at work if Scott asked about it. But he knew better.

"I know that, but why are you cooking? Again?"

"Yes, I know it's weird, but my sleep schedule got all screwed up with my shift change and I couldn't sleep much. So, I got up and decided to cook. Oh, and I made you a lunch," she gestured to the brown sack on the counter.

Scott's eyes grew wide at his food prospects for the day. Not willing to argue, he sat down and started filling up a plate. He checked the clock - he only had about ten minutes before he would have to take off.

Melissa was still working on a cup of coffee. "You have lacrosse practice today?"

Scott nodded, mouth full of food.

Melissa nodded back. She really wished she had more to say to him. She sat down at the table across from him and placed her mug down. She kept staring at Scott's hands, remembering how quickly they could grow into sharp claws from the night before.

Scott took notice, however, he didn't let on. He was pretty sure his mother meant it when she said being a werewolf didn't matter to her. But she must have the same type of morbid curiosity that Stiles had about his condition; not that he could blame her. He toyed with the idea of making his claws grow to show her, then decided against it. There was definitely not enough time right now to open that up to discussion. His stomach close to uncomfortably full and his plate finally clean, he got up to put it in the sink.

Melissa watched as Scott grabbed his lunch bag. Then to her surprise, he kissed her goodbye on the cheek._ 'Awwwww,'_ she mused to herself. "Thanks, Mom. Love you," she heard him call back as he got the rest of his things. She called out the same from her seat in the kitchen. She decided to get up and go to the front door, watching Scott as he hopped on his bike and pedaled away down the driveway, like any other boy.

She locked the door and padded back to the kitchen. Melissa began to clean up until she spied the old photo album on the kitchen counter. Remembering what she had wanted to do originally, she abandoned the chores and grabbed the album and went to sit at her computer desk in the other room. Taking her digital camera from its usual spot, she patiently waited while her computer booted up. She wanted to print out some photos and put them in the album before she forgot. Melissa watched as a handful of files transferred from the camera to their new home in her 'Scott' folder on the PC. As the thumbnails popped up, she realized she not only had some shots from his first lacrosse game, but also had a few from the night of the semi-formal with Scott in his suit. She had insisted upon taking some pictures before he left. It wasn't often she got him to dress up and she wasn't missing the opportunity.

Without looking any closer, she clicked a button to print out all eight photos. Melissa went back to the kitchen to finish up her cleaning while the printer did its work. Ten minutes later, she popped back in the computer room to see how they came out.

The first five photos were from Scott's first lacrosse game. Most were taken of Scott in action on the field - she was so proud seeing how well he did even if it was because of supernatural powers. She even had one closeup of Scott and Stiles before the game started. She studied their expressions. Both were smiling, but there was something uneasy about their expressions, as if they were worried. Melissa remembered that they had been in a hurry when she caught them. Upon closer inspection, she realized Scott wasn't looking at the camera. From behind his face mask, she could see his eyes staring off to the side with an intense scrutiny. She wondered what had caught his attention. Perhaps Derek had been there, watching him. Melissa didn't like to think that Scott would be living his life constantly looking over his shoulder.

She slid the lacrosse photos into the album and reached for the semi-formal ones. She smiled, reminiscing how impatient he had been to leave when all she wanted was a few pictures. He posed for one, then another. She put them both into the album, wishing that he and Allison had made up in time for the photo op. But there would be other dances this year, she reasoned, and as long as they weren't held on a full moon...She stopped that train of thought before it went somewhere she didn't want to go.

Melissa got to the last photo and caught herself. She remembered this one. Scott was about to leave when she had caught him off guard and set the self timer on her camera. She had run in at the last second as the timer ran down and grabbed his arm to get him to pose with her. He was flustered for a moment but did as she asked. With the flash of the camera, her hold on him was done and she let him go off to enjoy his evening.

For whatever reason, she didn't check the photos in the camera that night. Maybe she had been tired, or maybe she had to go to work - she couldn't recall exactly. She had simply put the camera away in its place until she had the time to come back to it again.

Melissa stared at the photo, she was smiling widely at the camera, one arm hooked into Scott's. Most of Scott's face, however, was obscured by a white-gold colored aura emanating from his eyes. Melissa got the impression that he appeared caught off guard, uncertain at whatever threat was suddenly before him. His stance was off, with one arm held out as if to block the camera from working. The picture trembled, the image not steady in her hand.

It would have been a good picture. A fun candid picture of a mom not ready to let her son go out on his own to a school dance. She could have framed it or put it in her album.

Melissa crumpled the photo in her hand, making a tight fist to will the ruined image out of existence. Her eyesight was getting blurry, heat starting to pulsate behind her eyes. She didn't want to look at it anymore. She let the crumpled photo fall from her grasp, watching it roll off the desk. Her hands came up to catch her head as she stared down at the pages of her sixteen year old photo album, filled with pictures of what she considered to be the greatest accomplishment of her life. Melissa choked back a sob, something she'd been holding in for the past twelve hours; then another, and another. She closed the album to keep tears from falling on the pages and ruining them. Holding her head in her hands, she cried for her son, for what he would have to go through now. She allowed it only because she knew that he'd be at school by now, heading into homeroom. Scott would finally be too far away to hear her crying.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the ending. Feel free to discuss any of my fics over in my author chat in the TW Fanfiction Forum.<em>

_Next: I'll be concentrating on follow up one shots for _Claws In Me _unless a really awesome prompt takes hold somehow. :-)_

_And I don't own Teen Wolf or The Specials.  
><em>


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